A Blessing In Disguise
by Agatha-Naomi
Summary: She hated Shinji with a passion, passion being the key word. It was a lot easier to kick him in the face than acknowledge that she had fallen for him, creepy smile and all.


A Blessing In Disguise

AN: Thank God my writer's block is gone!

She hated Shinji with a passion, passion being the key word. It was much easier to kick him in the face then acknowledge that she had fallen for him, creepy smile and all. He was a lewd, crude, scheming womanizer. He had a bowl haircut that never failed to look ridiculous. Tall, lanky, goofy and more intuitive than she would have liked. That's what she hated most about him. He could take one look at her and figure out what she was feeling. To the rest of the world she was an ass kicking brat with mad skills. To Shinji, she was an ass kicking brat who had insecurities and baggage just like everyone else.

He refused to see her as a badass. She was an abandoned child, an angry little girl, She was unwanted and made furious by it. He never told her he knew all of this. In the way he treated her it was plain to see that he knew her better than anyone else, seeing even what she didn't want anyone to see. That's why she kicked him all the time. The need to prove to him that she was more than capable of breaking his nose, no matter what weaknesses he saw in her, was overwhelming.

Sometimes, the embarrassing insight he had, proved to be a blessing in disguise. After Hikafune Taicho had left her without someone to look up to, after her 69 hour battle with her hollow, that insight had been a comfort. No matter how much she tried to hide it, somebody knew she was sad and scared. She never wanted him to comfort her; that would just be weird. But knowing her fears were of value, her discomfort noted and not mocked, made her feel better.

She knew the time would come when his understanding of her would not be enough. One of these days she would be faced with something she couldn't handle or hide. Someday she would need more than his silent acceptance to feel better. That day would be an embarrassment.

Hachi's bed was old, and it had broken. Lisa's bed had been soiled by rain that had dripped in through a leak in the ceiling. That left them two beds short. Mashiro and Kensei agreed to share a bed naturally. Lisa claimed the couch, which Shinji usually took. Love and Rose shared another bed, both very uncomfortable with having a male bed-mate. That left two beds. Hachi claimed the bigger one. And what did that leave? Shinji, Hiyori and a single bed.

Needless to say they protested violently. Was there anything more awkward than sharing a bed with your arch enemy? Unfortunately it had been a long day, and after a very honest promise of great injury should he try anything perverted, they climbed into bed. The tension could be cut with a knife. He wasn't asleep yet. She hoped for his sake that he didn't snore. He was sleeping outside if that was the case. After about an hour he fell asleep. He didn't snore too loudly, so she allowed him to stay. She fell asleep soon afterwards.

She had the dream again. It was the one she always hated having. In the morning she never remembered what it was about when she woke up. Just that there was blood. Her blood, blood of her comrades. Blood belonging to people she had never met. She knew that living through a war, having an inner hollow, was enough of a reason to dream of so much crimson. But that didn't make it any better.

When she woke up she did what she always did when she had the dream. She curled up into her pillow and started to cry. Hiyori rarely cried, and if she did it was in the silence of the night, where no one could hear. But Shinji woke up to the sound anyways.

"What the hell are ya doing Hiyori?"

"Go screw yourself Dickhead. Leave me the hell alone." If her voice hadn't have been shaking this statement would have carried more weight.

"You're so stubborn. C'mere."

"Go to hell!"

"C'mon. You need a hug."

"I damn sure do not!" She rolled over and sniffed angrily, half crying, half throwing an indignant tantrum. He chuckled under his breath, knowing it would piss her off, but not being able to help it. She was such a goofball sometimes.

She was still crying though, which was a problem. She probably needed a little help. What was he supposed to do? Comfort her whether she wanted it or not? She would kick his ass!

Screw it. That had never stopped him before. He rolled her over to face him, embraced her and waited for the beating he was sure to receive. Luckily for him, she couldn't do much harm to him in his hold. After a few moments of protest she huffed in irritation and gave in. With a shyness that didn't suit her, she put her arms around his shoulders and resumed crying, so softly he wouldn't have noticed if his t-shirt wasn't getting wet. She buried her face in his neck and he tightened his hold.

"You tell anyone about this, and I will kill you Dickhead." She sobbed.

"Understood." He sighed. He knew she meant it. Maybe someday he would tame that aggression she loved to showcase. Until then his goal was to hold her until she stopped crying. But by then she was dead asleep. There was no way to let go of her without waking her up. She would want to forget that this had happened, and waking up in his arms would make that impossible. She would have to face the morning full aware that she had cried in front of him. That would suck for her, but for them, maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

In any case, her reaction to finding herself curled up with him in the morning, but surely be entertaining. Even if he was injured in the process.


End file.
